


A last farewell?

by solasharel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Endgame, Other, Post-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solasharel/pseuds/solasharel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events of the party following the Inquisition's victory, and Lavellan is having a hard time coping with the massive changes in her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A last farewell?

Lavellan's ears rang with the mute sounds of laughter, music and glasses toasted all around the main hall. The great battle was over, Corypheus had been eradicated, and everyone was in high spirits. Nobles had flocked from all across Thedas to meet with her, the Herald of Andraste, Leader of the Inquisition. All she saw was a Dalish elf with no clan, a heretic to her own People. They would never know the price she had paid for her small mistake at the Conclave. Her sacrifice. Still, she pasted on a smile, and wandered from group to group with an untouched glass of fine Orlesian wine in hand.  
"Inquisitor, this is the Comte de Juillard; he presents his thanks for your efforts in restoring his lands and, naturally, putting an end to the destruction of the World." Josephine was quietly debriefing her on every attendant at this gathering, taking notes on favours they were pledging as the two moved about the room. A small knot in Lavellan's stomach formed at the possibility that she may be required to give a speech.  
"It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, your Worship." The nobleman bowed low, his feathered hat tickling at her nose. She wrinkled it, suddenly feeling very aware of her missing _vallaslin_. "I must say, this soirée is delightful! The imported cheese from the Anderfels is nothing like despair as I had thought!" There was a chuckle from the masked figure, and Lavellan smiled meekly in return before heading to the top corner of the hall.  
All that dogged her thoughts was the empty place where her heart once lay. After the fight, Solas had vanished. All traces of the orb were gone too, and Leliana's scouts had lost sight of him heading West. She refused to accept the nagging permanence of his disappearance. He would find a safe place for a few days and then he would return, she promised herself, weary but somewhat consoled by another trip to the Fade. It was this vain hope that kept one eye trained on the large doorway.  
"You should really take this moment to relax, Pipsqueak," came a voice from her waist. Varric was halfway through his third - or maybe fourth - ale of the evening, but looked no worse for it. It must be the Dwarf in him, she surmised.  
"I don't even know these people, Varric, I'm just an idea to them. A trophy." She thought better of adding the implications of novelty and elf into the sentence. Jospehine would have her neck if she embarrassed herself here.  
"Ah, just let them have their moment. After this it will all quiet down. Until you get invitations to every dance and ball in Orlais, and every tournament in Ferelden! Trust me, Hawke had the same thing, and look her now, disgraced and leading Wardens back to Northern Thedas!" His joking around wasn't setting her at ease, and Varric sensed her inward emotional struggle. "Don't worry about Chuckles, he'll come around."  
She swung her gaze to meet him, the corners of her eyes burning, and swigged a good half of the wine before setting it down. He had touched a nerve. "Excuse me, Varric. I just need to, uhm, wash my face." He nodded, realising that maybe it had been too far even for him, and made cover for her exit.  
Lavellan flung herself up the stairs to her bedroom, gasping, the tears flowing when she wanted most to remain calm. Panic was seeping in from every edge of the room and her vision blurred. She headed straight for her balcony and gripped it with every ounce of strength, sucking in the cold evening air. She willed herself to calm down, angry and frustrated at her weakness. For weeks she had carried this broken feeling with her. She had done as she was told, hardening her heart and defeating the Pretender. Her reward was nothing.  
" _No matter what comes, know that what we had was real_."  
Faint whispers of his voice carried on the wind. She knew, deep down, that he would not return. There would be no answers. There would be no embrace. She released her hold on the balcony and headed back inside her warm chambers. The fire was burning low. Odd, she thought, that the servants would have been by so early. She surveyed the area, and saw a small scroll lodged in the wall not far from the fireplace. Once Solas had placed a small wild-flower there that he had found in the Emerald Graves. Her favourite place. She pried the scroll from its home and unrolled it, sitting by the dying firelight to read words that only she could translate.

 

_Ma vhenan._

_ Na'abelas mah'in. Ar shiral vir'u. Dar'atisha, emma lath. _

_ Solas.* _

  
  
She clutched the tiny parchment in her hands, etching every curve of his script into memory, before placing it back in its hiding space. It was not an answer, she conceded, but it proved something to her. He cared, despite their final conversations.  Whether he returned or not, he cared.

**Author's Note:**

> *My heart.  
> Your sorrow is mine. I travel this path alone. Be peaceful, my love.  
> Solas.


End file.
